


Rumpled

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Clothing, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-01
Updated: 2010-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark and Bruce are getting ready to go to a party in civilian garb when Bruce decides to straighten Clark's tie.  Things go from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumpled

  
"Come here." Bruce Wayne frowned and reached out, adjusting the knot on Clark Kent's tie. "Are you really going to this party looking like _that_?"

The Gotham skyline huddled below the glass windows of Bruce Wayne's office. Clark could see his reflection in the darkened windows. Bruce's reflection frowned more deeply and leaned closer. "This is hopeless," Bruce muttered. "I have to start from the beginning."

"I'm _supposed_ to look like this," Clark noted as he felt fingers undoing the cloth at his throat, heard the slither of fabric as Bruce shifted the tie under his collar. "That's kind of the point of the whole 'disguise' thing, you know." Bruce made a _tsk_ing noise, peering at his neck intently, and Clark felt his mouth tighten in annoyance. "This was supposed to be a strategy plan about a possible attack by Mister Freeze, not a fashion consultation."

Bruce waved a hand. "Strategy? Please. It's _you_ and _me_, Clark. If Mister Freeze attacks, we take him down. That's all the strategy we need." He finished re-knotting the tie, sliding the knot up against Clark's Adam's apple firmly. "But I can't see how you can bear to go out in public like this all the time. I always just want to...tidy you up. Unrumple you." His hands moved down across Clark's shoulders, settling the jacket more correctly, straightening the seams. He smoothed out the wrinkles, his hands running down Clark's sides. "Having to hide your real looks beneath all this. It just seems such a crime, somehow."

Clark shrugged, in part to disguise the sharp _frisson_ that went through him at the contact. Bruce's touch was crisp, professional. And yet the process had an odd intimacy that was...rather unnerving. Bruce bent to inspect Clark's jacket buttons, and Clark caught a faint scent of soap from his hair, something clean and unobtrusive, with just a hint of spicy cologne beneath it. "Half the time I'm dressed in bright, skin-tight spandex. People stare at me all the time. It's kind of a relief to fade into the background."

Bruce brushed at Clark's hips in a vain attempt to get the crumpled pants to crease correctly. "That's different. They're staring at the S. And at the body. I don't mean your abs or your, um." Bruce coughed and looked away for a moment. "What I mean is your style. You're a man of infinite grace and balance, an elegance that transcends your physical brawn. So few people can see that." He blinked and then laughed slightly, with a touch of chagrin, as Clark stared at him. "But I'm talking nonsense. You're right, we should discuss strategy. Now, the northern entrance to the hall is--"

"--I might be convinced to dress better under certain circumstances," Clark blurted out.

Wariness. "Which circumstances would those be?"

"If...well, if, for example, I were out on a date. With someone who had a good sense of fashion and expected their date to dress well too. I might try to find my inner fashion plate then."

There was a sudden sparkle in the wolfish eyes, but the wariness remained. "Well, if you get asked on such a date, do make sure to come to me first. We'll go shopping, I'll get you in the absolute best." His eyes went faraway, as if imagining it. "Something Italian. Maybe Armani. Tapered to show off your form--" He tugged at the jacket again, tightening it slightly for a moment, "But you certainly wouldn't need any shoulder padding if you stood straight for once." He brushed at Clark's shoulders. "A nice silk-wool blend, strong but supple. Maybe with a Mandarin collar, just a touch unconventional. Charcoal-gray or navy, perhaps." His hands slid along Clark's rather crumpled lapels, paused. He cleared his throat. "Has someone stylish asked you out on a date?"

"Not yet. I'm beginning to think I might have to ask him myself."

The glint in Bruce's eyes darkened speculatively at Clark's pronoun choice. "Maybe you should."

Clark started to compose an equally oblique answer, then gave up and rolled his eyes. "Bruce. Barring emergencies and crises, are you free on Saturday?"

Bruce's hands tightened on his lapels. "To go shopping for your date with this hypothetical person you haven't asked out yet?"

_"Bruce,"_ Clark growled, which seemed to work as both a reproof and an answer, because Bruce leaned in and kissed him.

"We'll have to fly to Milan tonight," Bruce murmured into his ear some time later, "If Giorgio needs to have your suit ready by Saturday."

Clark expressed his willingness to fly anywhere in the world with Bruce by kissing him again.


End file.
